


Curse of the Siren

by ShadowThorne



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1667996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowThorne/pseuds/ShadowThorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the world was a different place, he sailed the seven seas and basked in freedom, but his luck changed and a curse was laid upon his shoulders. Now he wanders lost and unable to ever touch what makes him most happy in life, but the sea is unwilling to let go of what's hers and perhaps a slighted pirate captain in a time not his own can find salvation in a young man that unwittingly forces him to face his past. GrimmIchi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curse of the Siren

**Author's Note:**

> Out of my own work, this is one of my personal favorites.
> 
> Enjoy~

The skies were overcast, a light cloud cover dulling the brilliant sunshine above. It didn’t rain however, and the breeze smelled of salt and deep, open water. The sea was calm, a deep, sparkling blue green that spread out like the most beautiful of spilled paints across the vast horizon. The best of painters couldn’t have truly captured the beauty it held, at least not in the eyes of one man, for an artist could capture the beautiful surface with perfection, but could never know all that hid deep within.

Eyes bluer than even the heavens swirled with a sad longing as they panned across the ocean’s surface. The sea called to him; the smell, the sight, the sounds of water lapping against the shore. It sang it’s siren call, directed and produced just for him. But the water was forbidden to him. It used to be his life, he knew, he remembered that much, but now it had become his creed to forget it, to leave his life on the ocean behind. But he couldn’t quite do it. He’d tried to leave, tried to move inland where the only water was fresh and saltless and ran only in rivers and pooled in small lakes. It just wasn’t meant to be. He was as much a part of the sea as the sea was of him.

He inevitably found himself back at the shore, staring out at the depthless, cool water. Day after day, it didn’t matter how far he dragged himself from the sea, he always ended up back at the shore. Sometimes it was a different shore, sometimes it was the same. Sometimes he found himself facing a different ocean, though they were all of the same sea, but recently he’d been stuck on this particular shore, facing the cool water of this particular ocean along this particular stretch of beach.

The sand was white beneath his worn boots, warm and clean. The few boats that dotted the ocean’s surface were smaller than the one he remembered from his own life, made of metal and not of wood, but they rocked gently against the backdrop of endless blue and brought him a sort of vicarious peace. Crews called out to each other as they pulled in hauls of fish and manned the rigging. The villages around this stretch of shore were small and sparse, yet of a different time than the villages he remembered. They were a close community, though, and it reminded him of the unity he used to hold with his own, long ago, when he’d still lived on the sea.

He’d almost forgotten why he had left the sea behind, or rather, tried to leave it behind. Perhaps it was just that he wished he could forget why he’d left. He’d held mostly to his self imposed creed; he hadn’t set foot in the ocean nor on a boat in as long as he could remember, but he just couldn’t stay away. All he could remember was that he had forbidden himself from the ocean’s sweet lure, that to touch her water was to invite terror, the rest of that horrible memory was kept tucked away deep within his mind.

Staring out at the few fishing boats that dotted the endless blue green of the beautiful ocean, the man with startling blue eyes finally turned his saddened gaze away, and put the sea to his back once more. 

And so it went every day for weeks. For months, the stranger with blue eyes so deep they rivaled the seas he seemed drawn to would come to the shore and stare out at the water. He’d never touch it though, his old, worn boots never dipping into the lapping of the tide. He’d stand just out of reach of the waves, standing in white sand, and simply watch the ocean. When it rained, he would stand further back and relish as the fresh, cool rain soaked his breeches and his long, black coat. When the ocean breeze raged into a strong wind, he’d lift his chiseled features into it, eyes closed in unmatched bliss, and simply breathe in the salt and depth it carried. He let it fill his lungs like it was the first breath he’d taken in far too long, and simply stood there, on the dry sand.

He was a tall man, lean but well muscled. His legs were long, his shoulders broad and sturdy, the build of a man used to manual labor. Most of his skin was covered, but the skin of his hands and face, the peek of collarbone from below the neck of his shirt, suggested a sun-kissed golden tone, the color of a man that didn’t sit indoors often. His features were angular, not sharply so, but enough to make the contours more pronounced; a strong jaw, straight nose, full but not pouty lips. His crystallin eyes were bright, cold in an intelligent and experienced way, but not in a cruel way. Teal markings slashed below and around the outside corners, only making the oceanic effect all the stronger. His hair was an unseen shade of blue that matched the clear sky above an open ocean, chaotic and tussled by the breeze.

His clothing was old, worn and weathered by a life at sea, even though no one had seen him on a ship. The sea coat he wore was long, ending nearly around his knees, and made of a dark material, probably black once upon a time. The edges were tattered and salt stained from wading through shallows he never touched. The front was usually left open, the eight or so buttons left undone, made of a heavy brass, round and polished. Matching buttons adorned the rolled sleeves, four on each cuff. The collar was heavy, folded down, and the coat’s inside was made of a rich, midnight blue silk, expensive even now. His pants were made in the old style, tight fitting but thick and durable. They were also darkly colored, the bottoms tucked into worn, leather boots that nearly reached his knees. Like the coat, the boots were salt stained and used, meant for a hard life at sea. The tops were cuffed, the souls thick and meant to grip the slippery deck of a ship.

He said nothing, even when a few of the more brave towns folk passed near by. It was as though he hardly even realized they were there, too busy staring off into the endless blue of the sea, looking further than any other man could see, where the blue of the sea melded with the blue of the sky to form an endless horizon. Rumors had spread about the stranger’s sudden appearance. He was just there one day, no one had ever seen him before, and some said he came from the ocean itself. Some said he was the spirit of a long dead sailor lost at sea, or perhaps a mythical siren, lost and washed up on shore and so had lost the ability to sing. Still others denied all those claims, saying he was simply a man lost in purpose and perhaps in mind as well.

The one thing everyone agreed on however, was that he was not from around there, that he was foreign to their community. But he didn’t bother anyone and so they didn’t bother him. They were a hearty, seaside community, the appearance of a single, silent stranger was odd but not cause for undue panic or attention. ••••••

“He’s certainly handsome.”

“Yes, he is that.” The young man took a moment to realize just what he’d agreed with before his features tinted a light shade of red. Beside him, a wide grin spread across his childhood friend’s features. Well, no more denying that...

Nearing his twenty-second year, Ichigo had matured into a fine young man. He was leanly built with a strong air about him, carrying himself with pride. Riotous, untamable orange hair hung in shaggy spikes about his features, brushing the tops of his shoulders in the back. With deep, brown eyes and a charming smile, he had long ago caught the eye of many of the young ladies his age, but he’d brushed off or remained oblivious to their pursuits since he’d reached adulthood. While other boys his age began courting their intended, he remained single and uninterested in marriage.

“Oh come now, Ichigo, we already knew of your preferences.” Rukia stood shorter than her friend, but you wouldn’t have guessed she actually understood the size difference between them. She punched him in the shoulder hard enough that he grabbed the spot and sent her a glare. “You don’t need to fear what I’ll think of you.”

“Yeah, I know...” Ichigo turned his gaze back toward the strange, blue haired man. Like usual, he simply stood out on the beach and stared out over the water. “I wonder why he doesn’t sign up with a crew or something.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to swim?” Rukia also turned her gaze back toward the man her friend fancied.

Ichigo arched a brow in dull skepticism, but continued to study the oblivious man. “Of course he knows how to swim, look at him. I’m surprised he knows how to walk on dry land. He looks like he was born underwater.”

“Maybe he was...” Rukia said in a spooky, hushed voice. She earned another glare. Laughing, she pushed her much taller friend forward. “Go talk to him already!” She commanded.

“What? No! Are you crazy?” Ichigo backpedaled as she braced her hands across his lower back and continued pushing. He spun on her, trying to dig into the sand so that she’d quiet pushing him toward the strange man. “I can’t! We’re supposed to leave him alone, remember? It would be rude to bother him.”

“No it wouldn’t! Look at him,” She waved off in the stranger’s direction, behind Ichigo. “He looks so lonely, can you really just leave him to stand out there all by himself day after day?”

Ichigo hesitated. The man did look lonely and dysphoric as he stood and stared out at nothing. He started to refute what Rukia had said as he turned to once more look at the blue haired stranger, only to freeze, words dying on his tongue as he found piercing blue eyes trained on him. A bit of curiosity swirled in impossibly deep orbs, head turned to face Ichigo, though his body remained turned toward the sea and he still stood motionless.

The light breeze gusted through Ichigo’s vivid orange hair, making it even messier than it already was as he stood rooted to the sand, unable to respond, taken off guard and stunned. He simply stared back, his chocolaty brown eyes a little wide with surprise and disbelief, enraptured by the blue ones holding his own. Behind him, Rukia snickered and nudged him forward again. This time, Ichigo found himself following her suggestion, and began walking slowly toward the stranger, as though drawn to the man.

Rukia chuckled and waved at her friend’s back before skipping off across the sand back toward the town, leaving Ichigo to it.

Dressed in a basic pair of pants and a shirt more fitting for work than for proper introductions, Ichigo slowly crossed the sandy stretch between himself and the man he’d been secretly watching for the past week at least. His feet were bare, the sand warm and soft beneath them. Most of the beach was bare and deserted this time of the day, the fishing crews already out to sea and not due back until nightfall. The other citizens were busy at work within the town, so no one else stood at the abandoned waterside.

Ichigo stopped just inside of arms reach from the man, looking up into depthless blue eyes. He swallowed a bit nervously and waited for the man to speak, or even to react to his presence, but the stranger simply continued to study him. Finally after a moment, Ichigo cleared his throat and spoke. “Uh, hello...”

A smile so stunning it nearly stole Ichigo’s breath spread across the man’s handsome features. “Good afternoon.” He replied back in a deep, rumbling voice, like the waves crashing on a rocky shore during a storm. There was something polite and cultured in his voice, despite the roughness, and his accent was from somewhere far off. He turned back toward the water to continue his watch, or perhaps it was a search?

“What are you looking for?” Ichigo asked, hiding the timidness he felt so that it didn’t show in his voice. “We -uh- everybody’s noticed that you stand out here all the time...”

The man’s smile lessened just a touch, showing the longing that already swirled in his eyes. He shrugged one shoulder, eyes scanning the horizon. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Ichigo frowned and turned toward the ocean, looking out over the same scene the strange man had been studying for the past sever weeks and longer. They stood in silence for a while, simply staring off into the distance. Ichigo chanced a peek at the man every so often, but it was always the same sight.

Eventually, Ichigo sat down in the sand, crossing his legs under him and still facing the ocean. They stayed quiet, almost maddeningly so, but Ichigo wasn’t sure the silence surprised him much. He didn’t known what he’d been expecting, really. The quiet was a bit frustrating in a way, but at the same time, it didn’t really bother him either. It seemed to fit. Peaceful in sad sort of way, with nothing but the gentle lapping of the ocean.

A few hours passed, the taller stranger remaining motionless and Ichigo fidgeting a bit where he sat in the sand. Finally, Ichigo pulled himself up, standing beside the stranger for a few more minutes before he turned to the man once more. “Uh...I have to get going...”

Blue eyes cornered to glance at him and a small smile quirked one side of the man’s lips. He nodded ever so slightly before coasting his startling blue eyes back over the water.

“Ok then...uh...” Ichigo backed up a few steps, headed back inland and toward the town. He hesitated though, and stepped closer again, rounding the man to stand almost in front of him, but not enough to block the man’s view of the water. “I’m Ichigo...”

Again, blue eyes slid over to look at him but this time, amusement swirled where sad longing had, making them look all the brighter and more chaotic. The man nodded slightly before he dipped into a small but graceful bow, taking Ichigo by surprise with his polite and charming action. 

“Capt-” The man started to introduce himself, but stopped, brows pulling together before a small, soft chuckle as deep as the ocean escaped him. It was a sound Ichigo decided he liked. “Grimmjow. You can call me Grimmjow.”

“It was nice meeting you.” Ichigo gave the man a hesitant smile as he backed away again.

Grimmjow smiled back and nodded, “Likewise, Ichigo.”

Ichigo’s smile grew as he turned and headed off back toward the town and the duties that awaited him there, trying to keep his excitement out of his pace. The stranger known as Grimmjow returned his attention to the sea, where he awaited until the fall of darkness, before he once more put the ocean to his back and dragged himself away from the shore. He disappeared from the water’s edge as night snuffed out the last vivid orange rays of the sun’s light along the horizon.

When Ichigo got back to his home, he was unsurprised to find that Rukia had let herself in. He was so used to her coming and going as she pleased that it hardly bothered him anymore, despite that he knew he had locked his door when he’d left that afternoon.

She sat in a chair looking at him, kicking her legs in childish and energetic excitement. “So? How’d it go? You were out there for an awfully long time.” She practically sang.

Ichigo pushed the door closed behind him and shrugged as he toed off his shoes. “I don’t know... He didn’t really talk much. We just kind of stood there.”

“But he did talk to you?” Rukia asked, her excitement obvious as she hopped to her feet and joined him as he walked through the sitting area to his small kitchen. “He hasn’t talked to anyone else before you, you know.”

“Yeah, he did talk to me, but has anyone else even tried? How do you know he wouldn’t have talked to them if someone would have just tried?”

“Ahh, well I guess I know something you don’t, then.” She teased, dodging backward as he spun on his heel to make a grab at her.

“Spill it!” Ichigo demanded, much to Rukia’s amusement. He snagged hold of her and, because of how much smaller than him she was, he easily pulled her from the floor and threw her over his shoulder.

“Put me down, Ichigo!” She yelled as she tried to wiggle her way out of his grip, yet clutched at his shirt at the same time, fearful he’d drop her despite that he’d never dropped her before.

Ichigo stood his ground and hardly even noticed as she struggled to free herself. “Not until you tell me.”

“Fine! Fine! Put me down and I’ll tell you...” She crossed her arms and huffed as he finally put her back on the floor. But her scowling expression melted into a wide grin again as she looked up at her friend. There was a sly spark to her violet eyes as she cocked a hip. “The gossip around town lately is that that one blond wench tried to talk to him already...”

Ichigo didn’t even need to hear the woman’s name to know who Rukia spoke of. She flirted with every good looking man around and because she had the looks, they usually took her home. His semi-permanent scowl etched across his boyishly handsome features again as he crossed his arms over his chest in his displeasure.

Rukia laughed as she continued, understanding exactly what Ichigo was thinking. “I heard he took one look at her and turned right back to the ocean and ignored her the entire time she tried to get his attention.”

Ichigo’s features lit up again. “Seriously?”

“That’s what I’ve been hearing.” Rukia nodded, her smile bright as they moved back out to the sitting room, food in hand. “Apparently she even tripped in the sand and accidently flashed him a nice view of her massive tits. I guess he didn’t even offer to help her back to her feet and she stormed away complaining about how rude he was.”

The grin on Ichigo’s face made a matching one split Rukia’s features, happy to see the young man look a bit less morose finally. He’d been dying to officially meet the stranger for at least week, even if he had refused to admit to it until only earlier that same day. “Soooo, even if he didn’t say much...” The small woman said in a slow, drawn out tone. Then, all at once, she repeated her question in an excited rush. “What did you guys talk about?”

Ichigo laughed, mood completely turned around. Now it seemed that perhaps even though the man had only said a handful of words, it wasn’t really a bad sign. “We didn’t really talk about anything. He introduced himself,” Ichigo fought off the slight blush that wanted to rise when he thought about the way the man had bowed. That sort of polite gesture was usually reserved for pretty women or men of high standing, of which Ichigo was neither. “and when I asked, he told me he wasn’t looking for anything. That’s about it though.”

Ichigo shrugged a bit and Rukia hummed an interested sound when she noted that his eyes wouldn’t meet hers. “So what’s his name?”

“Uh.. Grimmjow.”

“Ooo, that’s a sexy name,” Rukia purred, lifting her brows at her friend. At that comment, Ichigo lost his battle, his features tinting a light shade of pink. “and it sounds foreign.”

“Yeah, he didn’t sound like he was from around here but I couldn’t place his accent.” Ichigo paused, brow scrunching in thought. “The name almost sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” 

Rukia crunched up her nose as she thought for a moment. “Ya know, it kind of does...” 

And so, at his friend’s insistence, Ichigo went on to tell Rukia all about how they had stood on the beach in silence and nearly word for word the few things the stranger had said.

The next morning, as the sun rose in the sky above the ocean and added a fiery tone to the coolness of the sparkling water, the stranger named Grimmjow was back at his post. Not long later, Ichigo awakened to begin the day’s work. He sped through his morning duties as quickly as he could so that he could return to the beach, knowing the blue haired stranger would be there, like he was every day.

By the time Ichigo walked out across the beach, hesitantly joining the taller male where he stood near the shore, the sun was already overhead, but it was still morning and much earlier than it’d been the previous day. Rukia wasn’t present this time, having suspected Ichigo would wish to make another attempt of speaking to the man.

“Hello again.” Ichigo greeted quietly as he moved to stand at the man’s side. He didn’t look over at the stranger, however, and simply looked out over the water, at the few ships already out to sea. In the distance, off to the far left, an island sat. The green of the foliage was just barely visible against the green blue of the water. It wasn’t a very large island, and so had never been developed for people to settle on. A single, old dock and wharf allowed boats and ships to be brought in at it’s shore if need be, during storms or whatnot. Rumor had it that the entire island was haunted, something about old cemeteries and an underwater boneyard of sorts. Supposedly it used to be a pretty important docking site for some of the less than savory seamen long ago, when outlaws took to the sea as pirates in massive ships that required whole crews to sail them. But those days were long gone, and the last of the great and terrible pirates had disappeared at least a century ago.

The man smiled, his chuckle the rough churning of smooth stones. “Good morning, Ichigo.”

Ichigo chuckled as well. “Aren’t you out here awfully early?” Most people had things they had to do; chores to take care of or jobs that needed finished and if not, then they were most likely from wealth and high standing and they surely slept passed dawn.

“It’s not so early.” The man responded, glancing over at Ichigo for a moment. Ichigo could feel as his piercing gaze swept over his form before returning to the water again. “It used to be that I awakened with the sun to begin my duties and oversee those of others, but now...well...”

When Grimmjow fell silent, Ichigo looked over to observe the frown marring the man’s handsome face. “You miss being out there?”

The sad smile full of yearning from the day before replaced itself back across Grimmjow’s features. “You’re a very observant young man.”

Ichigo chuckled, the sound quiet in the calm morning air, and turned his gaze back out toward the sea. “It’s...it shows...that you miss it.” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the slight nod from the taller man. “Why don’t you join a crew? If you know your way around a boat, I’m sure you’ll easily find a job, they always need help.”

A small, sighing sound escaped the man. “I would like that very much, alas, I cannot.”

“Don’t tell me you can’t swim...” Ichigo mumbled, thinking back on what Rukia had said the day before.

Grimmjow shot him a look somewhere between offense and disbelief, blue brows furrowed. “Of course I can swim.”

“Oh good.” Ichigo laughed, oddly comfortable in the man’s presence. It wasn’t like the day before, where he felt more like he was intruding upon the man’s privacy and bothering him, but rather like perhaps Grimmjow was somewhat appreciative of his efforts and so rewarded Ichigo with his attention and with conversation.

When Grimmjow’s expression shifted into something akin to curiosity, Ichigo smiled again. “It was just something Rukia said, she wondered if that’s why you stayed on the shore.”

“Ah.” The man nodded his head in a single, small motion as he redirected his attention back outward again, as he so often did. “Rukia? The girl you were with yesterday?”

Ichigo nodded, a bit surprised to find that the man had noticed her with him. He shouldn’t have been, he knew, Grimmjow had clearly saw them when Rukia had been trying to convince him to try to speak with the bigger man, he’d looked right at them. It just always seemed that Grimmjow was so tuned into the sea that he hardly noticed those around him, but perhaps that wasn’t being very fair. The man seemed sharp and intelligent, surely he was more observant than Ichigo gave him credit for at first.

“She your lass?”

“What?” Ichigo frowned and looked up at the man, before he realized what he was being asked and his eyes widened a touch, features tinting a light shade of red. “No no no, she’s-uh-just a friend. I don’t-” Ichigo stopped, shutting his mouth as he looked away again, features heating up further in embarrassment about what he nearly confessed.

Beside him, Grimmjow laughed, the sound rich and deep and shiver worthy. The grin on his angular features nearly made him look like a completely different person. It filled him with a life and fire that had seemed absent in all the time Ichigo had observed him. “Then you’re of the male persuasion?”

Ichigo’s blush deepened as he tried to force out a denial, having no idea how the man standing next to him would react. “I-I didn’t say that...”

But Grimmjow only smiled. “Allow me to tell you something about sailors, Ichigo.” He said, deep voice commanding attention with a natural authority, despite the friendliness to his tone. “There were men who preferred to wait and take care of themselves until we made port and they could find a tavern wench, and then there were those of us that sought comfort amongst each other. I know not how the people of your town think, but upon the open sea, only the blue depths judge a man’s soul and character, and she cares little about sexual preferences.”

Ichigo’s flushed features were hardly lightening back to a normal color, but his heart was doing a wonderful job of trying to skip out of his chest. It was the most Ichigo had heard the man say and the way he spoke of the ocean held a contagious passion, on top of the subject matter itself. The young man could hardly contain his excitement and gratitude. He wanted to run off and tell Rukia of what the handsome stranger said, yet at the same time, leaving Grimmjow’s side at that moment was impossible and unthinkable. So instead of saying anything, he simply turned a genuine and grateful smile upon the bigger man, a bit of his youthful eagerness showing through.

Grimmjow returned the expression with a knowing and charming smirk of his own before turning blue eyes outward once more. They fell silent for a while, simply enjoying the company of each other and the sounds of the ocean around them. After a while, Ichigo lowered himself to sit in the soft, warm sand, still at the bigger man’s side. He picked up some of the white sand, funneling it between his fingers, feeling how much cooler it was under the sun warmed surface. It was the opposite of the man standing beside him: Grimmjow was cool and detached on the surface, but fire heated his core.

“You have a very unique name.” Ichigo said after a time, a tiny bit timidly perhaps. The tide was rising, letting him know he’d already been out on the beach for several hours. The cool water lapped in gentle undulations a few feet from them and Ichigo pulled his shoes off, stretching out his legs so that the cool water washed over his bare feet. Grimmjow simply stood where he was, motionless as he carefully watched the tide and the waves that crested over the shallows, insuring he’d stay dry. 

“Yes, it’s...an old name.” He told Ichigo. He was careful with how he worded his answer, and Ichigo frowned a bit. “Not really of this time, I suppose.”

“You’re not really from around here, are you?” Ichigo asked. A waved rolled in, a bit stronger than the few smaller ones lapping against the beach. Ichigo sighed his relief as the cool water washed over his legs, just barely missing the edges of shorts where he sat in the sand. The sun was already hot and high over them.

Grimmjow stepped back a bit, making sure the swell in the tide didn’t touch even the toes of his boots. “No, not really.” He answered.

Eventually, Ichigo had to take his leave again. Grimmjow bid him a good night, a smile on his handsome features. And so the days went. Ichigo would rush through his duties, joining the man, who was quickly going from stranger to friend, on the beach as soon as possible. After standing beside the bigger man for a while, Ichigo would drop to sit in the sand, or lay depending on how he felt at the moment. Grimmjow never seemed to mind, despite that he remained ever standing, his posture nearly perfect as he watched the ocean. 

Rukia joined them on occasion, mostly out of curiosity and because she was Ichigo’s closest friend. Sometimes others would attempt to converse with the blue haired man, or question him, but only ever when Ichigo was around. It was as if something kept them away from him and Ichigo broke that barrier, the connection between two different worlds. For the most part, Grimmjow ignored them or brushed them off with his quick, straight to the point answers, but he didn’t show open hostility. He simply had no interest in them, nor a reason to be interested.

The more the two spoke, the more Grimmjow seemed to come to life. It was as though interacting with Ichigo reawakened something within him, something he’d long forgotten about. His personality opened up, he spoke more, but always about the sea. It became obvious rather early on that he was knowledgeable in sailing and ships and Ichigo could see the sailor in him, in the way he spoke and the way he moved, in the way his eyes constantly scanned the waters he always faced. His passion and love for the open waters showed in everything he did and said.

“Grimmjow?” Ichigo looked up at the man, squinting a bit in the bright sun of a clear day, almost a week after he’d first approached the taller man. As had become custom, he sat at Grimmjow’s side, while the man looked out over the ocean. They’d been quiet most of the day, Ichigo’s mind preoccupied with what he was about to ask.

The blue haired man looked down at him, lifting a brow. “Yes, Ichigo?”

“Can I ask you something?” Ichigo lifted his hand to shade his eyes a bit, so that he could better see the taller man he was growing fond of.

Grimmjow nodded, looking down at him. Ichigo had learned, not through words but through observation of the older man’s habits, that if Grimmjow diverted his attention away from the sea long enough to look at something else with more than a simple cursory glance, than whatever that was must mean something to him. It brought a small smile to Ichigo’s face every time blue eyes glanced over at him.

“When we first met, you told me you weren’t looking for anything, but you can’t go out to sea, right?” Ichigo frowned a bit in thought, still looking up to study the man’s features. “Why not? Why do you stand out here all day long?”

Grimmjow redirected his attention back out over deep, crisp waters. He was silent for a long minute and Ichigo wondered if he’d overstepped his bounds and so wouldn’t get an answer, but Grimmjow finally lowered himself to sit in the sand beside the younger, his motions fluid and confident. The shift in position took Ichigo by surprise; Grimmjow had never sat down with him before. The expression on the bigger man’s features was a tragic, almost helpless smile.

“It’s a long and complicated tale, I think...” Blue eyes took on a far away look, searching back through years untold, years of silence and ambiguity, decades of wandering and harsh acceptance. “I was, long ago, banished from the sea by a creature of untold power, a curse laid upon me...but the sea calls to me still, unable to let go even after all these years, and she’s the only mistress I’ve ever been unable to resist.”

Ichigo’s frown deepened as he pulled his hand away in favor of leaning back in the sand, bracing himself with his hands, long legs splayed out in front of him. “What do you mean? You...have an odd way of talking, I don’t think I understand...”

“No, in this case, I speak in the literal sense.” A small chuckle escaped the blue haired man, but the sound seemed nostalgic. However, the grin that ripped across his features after it was genuine and held a wicked quality. “Tell me, Ichigo, what do you know of pirates?”

“Pirates?” Orange brows furrowed as Ichigo shook his head a bit. “I know that they used to ply the seas in giant, wooden boats, looking for treasures and attacking other boats.”

Grimmjow grunted and swiped his hand down his face as he shook his head. “So not much then... Is that really what they tell you about us these days?”

“Us..?”

“Yes, us.” Grimmjow arched a brow, studying the young man seated beside him.

“You’re a pirate??” Ichigo’s eyes flew wide, brows arched to his hairline in shock as he sat up straighter.

“I was, long ago, in my own life time.” Grimmjow chuckled, amused by the young man’s surprised reaction. When Ichigo’s shock only seemed to grown, the blue haired man’s laughter did as well. “Not all pirates simply searched the seas for treasure and plunder. Some, like myself, simply sailed for the freedom of it. The open waters, no limits, no rules, no boundaries, no authority greater than the open sea. We chased the horizon. Myself and my crew looted on occasion, enough to get by, keep my ship well maintained, and keep a few extra coins in our pockets, but we weren’t the crazed, treasure stealing pirates you’re speaking of. And we didn’t sail boats...they were ships.”

“You...you were a pirate...” Ichigo was still attempting to catch up. He’d realized Grimmjow had been some sort of mariner, it’d been more than obvious, but a pirate? “Wait, but you said...in your own... How long ago was that?”

“Ah.” Grimmjow smirked, but turned back toward the clean blue water. “That is where the story starts to get complicated... Ichigo, I do not wish for you to think me insane...”

Ichigo sat quietly for a moment, the bigger man seated in the sand next to him. “I wont. I know whatever you’re about to tell me is probably going to be absolutely crazy, but I believe you already.”

A small smirk settled back onto angular features and Grimmjow nodded in a slight motion. “I was your age more than a century ago, and cursed to become...this a mere five years later.”

Ichigo’s smile was wide and happy, “So you’re twenty-sev- oh my god...” and then his features dropped as what Grimmjow said settled in fully.

The blue haired man laughed, that wide grin stretching across his features and making his eyes bright. They reflected both the sky and the water, too deep to be made from the heavens, but too blue to come from the ocean and Ichigo decided they were a color selected from the horizon the man always seemed to stare out at, the perfect blue between the endless sky and the depthless water.

“Yes,” he said to the thoughts undoubtedly running through Ichigo’s head. “I am more than 127 years old, but I couldn’t tell you how much older. I stopped counting after that first one hundred years.” Grimmjow sobered up after that, his smile dissolving as he turned his attention back out to sea. “More than one hundred years on dry land, without so much as touching the ocean...and surely more than one hundred more.”

Ichigo’s own amusement waned as he looked over at the bigger man. Blue eyes didn’t corner to look at him, lost in their search of something Grimmjow would never find, and Ichigo began to wonder. He believed what Grimmjow told him, he probably shouldn’t have, it all sounded thoroughly insane, but he did anyway. So, before Ichigo had finally approached him all those days ago, when was the last time the cursed man had spoken to another human being? When was the last time he’d opened up the way he had been to Ichigo over the past week? Or told someone about his curse? What about touched another person, sought comfort in someone else or dared to let himself feel again?

A little hesitantly, Ichigo reached out to the man, more physically than he had been in the past week. It was something he’d been wanting to do since he first saw the man, months ago, but had only just now worked up the courage to do so. He slowly, gently ran the backs of his fingers across the man’s smooth jaw. Blue eyes went wide below furrowed brows before slowly cornering to watch Ichigo. The younger’s features tinted red, but he continued until he’d worked his hand to the other side of Grimmjow’s chin and could turn the man’s face toward him.

When Grimmjow was finally looking directly at him, they remained quiet, said nothing. Silence was a language all of it’s own and Grimmjow had long ago learned it. And with his help, Ichigo was beginning to understand it as well, growing used to it in the bigger man’s presence.

A smile worked it’s way back across Grimmjow’s handsome features, his attention diverted away from the sea and away from what he’d missed for so long to something new but perhaps something that could be just as important to him. “Thank you, Ichigo.”

Ichigo smiled and pulled his hand away, leaning back, his hands braced in the sand behind him again as he looked over at the bigger man. His smile grew from soft to amused again as he looked the man over, took in the strange, old style of clothing he wore. Now it made sense...the clothes of a pirate used to sailing over cold waters. “Why are you wearing all this? It’s hot out.”

Grimmjow made a face and looked down at his coat, the same that he’d worn the last day he’d spent on his ship, and shrugged. “Habit, I suppose.” But he shrugged out of it as Ichigo began tugging it over his broad shoulders.

Folding the long coat carefully, Ichigo set it in the sand beside them before redirecting his attention back at Grimmjow. Only then was he gifted with what the man truly looked like under the concealing coat. He wore a white, tunic style shirt, the wide, low cut V neck open to reveal golden skin and prominent collarbones. The cut dipped down the center of his chest, nearly to his sternum, the ties used to hold it shut left to dangle from the neckline. The sleeves were long, ending in rolled cuffs that Grimmjow deftly pushed up to settle just under his elbows, showing off corded forearms and even more smooth, golden skin. Now that the long, heavy coat had been removed, between the revealing shirt and the tight fitting breeches the man wore, Ichigo was fairly certain he was staring, but he couldn’t really help it. 

Grimmjow arched a single blue brow, a cocky grin tugging at his lips as he watched the younger’s reactions. “I still look pretty good for an old man, do I not?”

“Yeah...” Ichigo agreed distractedly before his features heated up. “I mean, no! I mean, you do look good, but you’re not old! Well, ok...you are...but that’s not what I meant either...I-I don’t know...I’m done now...”

Grimmjow threw his head back in deep laughter. They sat and enjoyed each other’s company for the rest of the day, sharing idle conversation, mostly Ichigo asking questions while Grimmjow explained various aspects of being a pirate. But they were vague, general questions mostly, no more asking directly of Grimmjow’s past, not yet at least. Grimmjow would tell him when he was ready.

When Ichigo took his leave for the night, Grimmjow remained where he’d been sitting beside the young man, thoughts dragged back to another time, to what may well have been another world. He knew Ichigo wanted to ask about it, about what he’d said about being cursed and about how long he’d been wandering and about his life before the everything had happened. He didn’t blame the young lad for his curiosity, but part of him was grateful that Ichigo had held his questions about all that for the time being. It was a painful thing to relive and Grimmjow was sure he would have preferred death all those years ago, had the option been left to him. He would have went down with his ship and his crew.

But it hadn’t been up to him and his world had crashed down around him, taken away and destroyed while he kept his life. Memories were funny things, so sharp and painful when they wanted to be, despite what their keeper wanted. Other times, they were dull and vague and dark, neatly nestled at the back of the mind where they were easily ignored. For a long time, Grimmjow’s had been fuzzy at best, hidden in the very darkest corners where he’d locked them away, but when he’d found himself on this particular shore, staring out at this particular ocean along this exact stretch, they’d begun to resurface. Ichigo’s appearance was both a blessing and a curse. The young man made for the perfect distraction from those memories, but he also reawakened the man Grimmjow had once been. Ichigo’s company made him feel alive again, made him open up and make room for not only Ichigo, but for his demons as well.

And so Grimmjow sat on the dry sand and, though he was awake, dreamed of the ocean, dreamed of what had happened and dreamed of what he could never have again.

The sea had been calm, the waters cool as winter approached. For most, the winter season was a harsh and miserable time, a season when people, even those that had chosen a life at sea, would dock their ship and hole up on land to wait for the worst of it to be over. But not Captain Jaegerjaquez.

The infamous pirate captain reveled in the chaos of winter, in the icy waters and the deadly storms. He loved it as much as he loved the calm summers, and his crew was just as daft. When he’d first built his crew as a brave young lad with too little common sense and too little experience, or so most of the older sailors had liked to believe of him, he’d selected men that were nearly as insane as he was. 

The elders of the mariner community liked to talk amongst themselves about Grimmjow, saying he was just an upstart lad doomed to get himself and his men killed. He was young and had too much bravado and too much wild eagerness, they said, too much confidence and not enough respect for the sea.

But perhaps it was simply that he understood the depths better than they did, knew some secret they didn’t. Or maybe it was simply his nature. Whatever it was, it helped him surround himself with a loyal and skilled crew, a crew of men that would follow even his most asinine and reckless of orders, a crew that would eventually willingly allow themselves to be lead to their deaths for their captain.

The young, blue haired man had a ship of his own before his second decade, a large and beautiful work of craftsmanship. Similar to a merchant ship, she had three masts and large, white sails, but her hull was a bit narrower, her draft a bit shallower, giving her more speed and maneuverability. She couldn’t carry quite the vast quantity of loot most pirate ships were loaded with, but her captain wasn’t a pirate for the treasure. He plied the seas because it was the one thing he loved. Nothing else could bring him that sense of freedom and his untamable spirit would not allow for him to sail under someone else’s command.

Grimmjow christened her the Del Mar and her name was painted along the hull in light colored, curling script along darkly stained wood. She was his first and only love and any man that dared speak ill of her or disrespect his ship was promptly tossed overboard. The name, meaning simply ‘Of the Sea’ would become well known in the years to come of her short reign. Tales would be told of her captain and her crew, of the adventures she’d seen, of the scraps she’d survived and the battle wounds she’d taken. But no man, pirate or military or merchant, would ever take her down. It was said that to wage battle against Captain Jaegerjaquez of the Del Mar was to invite devastation. He rarely sunk a ship, but he held little reservations about ruthlessly killing anyone that would dare to attempt harm on his men or his ship and the unmanned remnants of his battles, the ships he left crewless, would wander lost at sea until pulled under by storms or sea monsters or dragged to shore and run aground by the tides. He didn’t sail for the riches, but he was still a pirate, after all.

Ichigo wouldn’t have to wait long for the answers to the questions he wished he could ask. The next morning, the sun was hidden by grey clouds, a fine, misty fog hanging over the ocean’s water. He walked out onto the beach like he’d grown used to doing, and found Grimmjow still seated where he’d left the man the night before, coat still folded beside him, sleeves still rolled up.

The young man frowned as he approached, wondering what was wrong. He quietly lowered himself to sit beside the once-pirate, “Have you been sitting out here all night?”

Grimmjow started a bit, jerking himself from his memories and looking over at Ichigo before he shrugged. So lost in his thoughts, he’d hardly even realized as hours had passed, for what were a few hours to a man that had lived more than a hundred years? “I guess I have.”

“Did you even sleep?” Orange brows rose as Ichigo turned so that he sat facing the bigger man, long legs crossed under himself.

Grimmjow smirked, really just a small tilting of one corner of his full lips. “No. I haven’t slept in...years perhaps. Another thing I’ve lost track of.”

“What do you do all night, then?” Ichigo asked, scooting a bit closer. He desperately wanted to reach out to the man, both physically and not, but he was unsure how to go about that.

The bigger man rumbled a small sound. “On most nights, I attempt to free myself of the sea’s lure, and wander away from open water. This night, however, my wandering was internal.”

“Uh...” Ichigo hesitated, unsure he should ask and invade the bigger man’s privacy. “What were you thinking about?”

Blue eyes found and locked with the horizon, despite the low fog that clung to the waters as Grimmjow slowly, almost carefully unfolded part of his heavy coat. From the pocket, he pulled out a white feather. Not looking at it, nor at Ichigo, he twirled the stem of the feather between his fingers a bit. 

“I was remembering how I came to be this, how I came to be cursed.” He glanced down at the feather he played with. Feathers were a charm all pirates carried out to sea with them, believed to ward off shipwreck. Grimmjow chuckled, dropping the feather to the ground. “Would you like to hear an old tale, Ichigo?”

Ichigo watched the feather flutter the short distance to the sand and nodded, a slight frown on his features. So Grimmjow began spinning his tale, a story he’d never told anyone from a memory that forever haunted him.

It was told that Captain Jaegerjaquez was among the fiercest of pirates, a young man of great skill and knowledge of the ocean, a ruthless young man who loved what he did and took great joy and pride in his life at sea. The sea favored him, it seemed, or perhaps he’d made a deal with her. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t last and his name would eventually become the fearful whispers of maritime nightmares for a completely different reason. 

The Del Mar may not have been sinkable to a normal man, but that winter, more than a hundred years ago, was different and the single, hostile ship Grimmjow and his men ran across was not captained nor crewed by a man, but by a monster.

The sea had been calm, the water crisp and clear and beautiful as it reflected the sun’s light. The sky shone blue and bright, the air brusque enough to make the captain’s breath fog out before him as he stood at the bow of the ship and looked out over the endless water, but they were far enough from shore that the water wouldn’t freeze and their passage had been safe so far. He would keep it that way, he knew what he was doing. His grin was wide and happy despite the chilled hair that reddened his handsome features and made his fingers numb.

Grimmjow pulled his heavy, knee length coat tight about himself, turning back toward the main deck and the stairwell that would lead below, content that all was well and he’d be fine to warm up for a while. He had just reached the midway point when a low fog rolled in. It wasn’t an unheard of occurrence and Grimmjow and his crew had sailed through thicker, but what gave the captain pause was that the fog traveled toward them from their front, against the wind that blew at their aft.

Blue brows furrowed, eyes narrowing as that infamous sailor’s intuition and superstition kicked in. Grimmjow curled his lip, flashing white teeth as he oh so slowly turned back toward the bow of his ship. There, riding low against the water directly before the Del Mar, was a two mast schooner. The ship was smaller than Grimmjow’s, meant to be more agile. It’s sails were white, the wood of the deck, the hull, the masts, all of it was white. No name decorated it’s side, no flag marked it’s intent or origins. Nothing sat out on the bare deck; no barrels of supplies, no crates, not a single man. The way it sat on the water was odd, like there was almost no weight to it, no ballasts below, not weighted down by loot, possessions or even crew. A ghost ship.

Taking a few, slow steps back toward the direction he’d come and the mysterious ship, Grimmjow called down to his crew. At his deep voiced shout, it didn’t take long for his men to flood up onto the deck, caution yet confidence whispered in their motions. Backed by his men, just in case, Grimmjow strode back to the very bow, climbing up the few tiered feet to stand against the rail there. He looked down on the empty deck, cutting blue eyes narrowed, then let his gaze pan out over the waters beyond the ship.

The ocean seemed empty and deserted, as it had before the ship had appeared, but the fog continued to thicken around them, blanketing out the horizon Grimmjow loved so much. When he looked back to the ship, a figure stood looking back at him and only him, appearing as if from no where. A man as white as his ship and the fog around them stood stock still on the schooner’s deck, arms at his side. He wore a long, white sailing coat, much like the one Grimmjow wore minus the color. His boots were white as well, his breeches, all of it unstained and pristine in a way that was impossible. Long white hair cascaded around his shoulders, down his back, looking wet when the rest of the figure appeared dry. The strangest set of eyes locked with Grimmjow’s: a fiery gold that burned and glowed, settled among depthless, cold dark seas.

Pirates were already a superstitious lot and most of the men among Grimmjow’s crew pulled lucky coins made of silver from their pockets, making warding gestures as they stared at the figure. Even as the men milled about, many crowding closer to their captain, hands going to their weapons, the figure simply looked at Grimmjow and said nothing.

Grimmjow waved forward the man he had posted at the helm, his first mate, and leaned close as the man approached, vivid blue eyes still locked with the figure’s own gaze. He could practically smell fear on his crew and he knew that the creature that had appeared before them was bad news. Something was very wrong with the situation and this was not a battle he would willingly put his men nor his ship through. 

“Turn us round. Get us out of here. Quick as we can go.” He commanded, his voice low and quiet. Running wasn’t his style, the entire crew knew it. Hell, anyone that had ever heard of him knew it, but this wasn’t right and he knew it deep in the pit of his stomach. And a sailor, pirate or not, always trusted his gut instinct. Always.

“A-aye, Captain.” The helmsman backed up a few steps before turning and sprinting the length of ship that separated the bow from the helm.

Tilting it’s head slightly, the creature’s long hair swayed to the side and a slow, wicked grin pulled at pale lips. Grimmjow straightened, head held high and features set into a scowl that would have had even the most hardy of mariners turning around. But the creature only seemed to grow more amused.

“Run lil captain, run...” The creature’s voice was a quiet, watery sound that rode the undulating fog. “But it’s useless ta flee from me.”

“What is your name and your port of origin?” Grimmjow called back, ignoring it’s obviously hostile tease. They would never out run the schooner. His ship was meant to mix speed with a decent hauling strength, but the two mast before them was designed to be all speed. Grimmjow knew that. His crew knew it too. And undoubtedly so did the creature that captained the crewless schooner.

“My name?” The creature asked, “I have none, and my port of birth is no landmass but rather the nightmares of a man most wicked. I be here for you, Captain.”

When the last of his words echoed up to Grimmjow, soft and distorted, the creature vanished, leaving it’s ship to sit in front of them. “Get us moving! Starboard!” Grimmjow snarled a yell, deep voice ringing across the deck and through the crisp air.

He turned back toward the helm as their course shifted, listing toward the right. An island sat not far away, a small but sturdy enough dock providing a place to make birth. The island was small, used as a makeshift docking site for the larger pirate ships to remain safely out of the government’s reaches while not sailing. It housed a graveyard and little else, but it was better than the open ocean at that moment. His intent was to get them there, get them out of the cold waters and face this creature on dry land if it must follow them.

But as he turned to face his crew, he came face to face with a pale shadow amongst the bank of fog rolling over his ship. Burning golden eyes locked with his once more, unblinking and perhaps not quite alive. Grimmjow pulled his sword from the scabbard at his hip, a sneer on his features as he faced off with the creature.

“Fifteen men of the whole ship’s list,” The creature sang, it’s lilting voice echoing from the fog around it. Grimmjow’s sneer deepened at the familiar, dark tune. “Dead and bedamned and their souls gone west.”

“Leave my ship.” The captain’s voice was a growl, a low warning. His sword held in a steady hand, he stared down the creature that seemed to see only him as his crew circled around it from it’s back and sides, their weapons drawn and murder written across their features. They were pirates one and all, to kill a single man was hardly worth a second thought. “I will not warn you twice...”

The creature’s grin only grew. Grimmjow’s men surged forward.

From nowhere, the creature pulled a sword of it’s own and held it out toward Grimmjow. With it’s motions, as the shimmering blade caught the sun’s light and glared in the cold air, the fog thickened even further, falling heavy and impenetrable around them. 

Captain Jaegerjaquez’s loyal and skilled crew, men that had become infamous right alongside their notable captain, was slaughtered. The sixty-three men that helped to keep the Del Mar cutting through the water during her journeys became fifteen plus her captain.

The ghostly blade of the creature that had suddenly begun attacking the Del Mar sank into the chest of Grimmjow’s first mate. The man, the captain’s friend and occasionally something more, gasped a ragged breath. Red trickled down the front of his coat, seeping around the blade impaling him, flowing over his chin as he tried to pull in another wet breath.

Blue eyes widened, seeing it happen as though everything had slowed down. The sound that came from Grimmjow’s throat was less human and more animal, pure rage and raw emotion. A watery laugh escaped the creature as it violently yanked it’s blade free and kicked the dying man over, leaving the Del Mar’s first mate to gasp and choke on her deck. It spun back on Grimmjow, sword held at it’s side, the tip carving a thin gouge down the wooden planks it walked upon as it neared the captain with an unhurried pace. 

“Fifteen men on the Dead Man’s chest,” The creature continued to sing, the tune of the song perfect despite it’s distorted and lilting voice. “Drink and the Devil had done for the rest.”

Grimmjow panted as he watched it approach, his chest heaving from all the sword fighting. He and his crew were facing one opponent, but it wasn’t human and it had had no trouble tearing through them. Blood trickled down the side of the captain's face from a shallow cut. The creature had toyed with him while it slaughtered his men. It had marked him, cut him up with it’s pale blade, but none of the injuries were severe enough to kill him or even incapacitate him. It wanted him alive and well and Grimmjow knew it.

It’s eyes flashed in the shadows of the fog, heated gold like the treasure so many sought had been melted down. The creature raised it’s blade to Grimmjow once more, a swift snap of motion to bring it to bear level toward the captain’s chest. With it’s swift, fluid movements, the heavy fog dispersed, rolling away from the ship’s deck with unnatural abruptness, revealing the carnage that had become of Grimmjow’s crew.

Around him, men lay dead and dying, men he’d hand selected to join him on his journeys, men he’d trained, taught, led and seen through every storm they’d sailed through. Blood soaked the deck of his beloved ship, more blood than the Del Mar had seen in all her years of sailing the open seas. It painted the wood and seeped between the boards to drip into the haul below.

“Enough.” Grimmjow’s sword clattered to the deck and a wide grin split the creature’s pale face. Features set into a grim mask, brows furrowed and blue eyes hard, Grimmjow faced the thing unarmed. “What do you want of me?”

“Everythin’ ye hold dear, Captain.” The creature sheathed it’s blood soaked sword in a scabbard Grimmjow hadn’t even seen hanging along it’s back. It’s voice was calm, quiet amongst the deathly silent ship. “I want yer crew. I want yer ship sinkin’ into the deep. I want ye banished from the ocean.”

“I watched her burn.” Grimmjow told Ichigo, his voice too devoid of emotion to be natural. The strain that didn’t show in his tone, however, showed in his crystallin eyes as he stared sightlessly at the feather between his legs where he’d dropped it to the sand they sat on. “I stood in the slushy, half frozen shallows, freezing waters up to my waist, and listened to the screams of what was left of my crew as they burned with my ship.”

Drowning was something a pirate accepted. Sinking into the deep was something expected and welcomed. Many pirates never even bothered to learn how to swim, for the sea would take care of them and decide whether they drowned or not. So to die by the ocean’s cold waters was acceptable to any good pirate. But Grimmjow’s crew didn’t drown, they didn’t sink into cold, dark depths and come face to face with the only thing they revered as god. They burned.

Ichigo stared at the man, eyes wide, unable to imagine such a thing. He remained quiet, having nothing to say, nothing that could make what had happened any less horrible.

“I wandered for a while, found my way back toward where I’d grown up. My name had become taboo. So I left, went somewhere else. I don’t remember where any more, but it was the same everywhere. Even after years passed, and no one recognized me anymore, Captain Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was a curse, an omen of bad luck.” Grimmjow picked up the feather again, held it out toward the horizon as he looked at it, at the way the sunlight filtered through the white, soft vane. “Don’t say that name while on the sea, they said, you’ll summon the Devil’s siren.”

Grimmjow’s laugh was sardonic, a dark and bitter chuckle. “I tried again. The horror was over, right? Years had passed, a full generation. I scouted a new crew, began preparations to have a new ship built, but before either happened, I chose to face the sea I had avoided at the siren’s bidding...it returned the moment I waded out into the shallows. The fog, the white schooner, all of it just appeared...”

The once-pirate shook his head, twirling the feather. His eyes were still locked on it, but they held a far off look before they finally panned over to find Ichigo’s features. A very small, worn out smile creased handsome features. “Every time I set foot in salt-laden waters, it comes. It kills those around me, the people it knows I care for. It burns whatever ship I’m on, even if it’s not mine. And I find myself back in the shallows as I watch the ship sink. I am cursed to live a thousands lives, unable to set foot in the sea, unable to ever sail again.”

“Can’t you break the curse?” Ichigo hardly even realized when his hand had settled over Grimmjow’s until the feather still held between the man’s fingers stopped it’s slow rotation. “There has to be a way...”

“I thought that once, too.” Grimmjow’s piercing blue gaze didn’t drop from Ichigo’s, remaining on the young man rather than drifting away like usual. His voice dropped to a low growl. “The siren is not a thing to be toyed with. It’s amused enough by tormenting me, but it did not like being at the mercy of a mortal. It gave me a name and I found the man that had laid the curse on my head. But he could not reverse it, the creature he’d contracted was too powerful. Nor did killing him lift it.”

And Grimmjow had killed him, taking all his rage and anger and pain out on the man. He’d dragged the man out to sea, a jealous sailor who had thought Captain Jaegerjaquez was undeserving of his fame and good fortune, a man who wished for the sea to favor him like she had Grimmjow. When Grimmjow had entered even the shallows, his sword forcing the man that had cursed him out into the tide, the siren had come, summoned because of the curse. The man had nearly pissed himself in fright, an angry and slighted pirate captain at his front and a ghostly schooner and monster at his back. The surf had foamed red as it rolled onto warm sands.

“I’ll help.” Ichigo’s features took on a determined look as he squared his shoulders a bit. He squeezed the bigger man’s hand, ears tinting a very light shade of red. “I’ll help you find a way to break it.”

Grimmjow had been wandering about, curse intact, for more than a hundred years. He’d tried everything he could possibly think of. He’d went and seen every witch, shaman and medium he could find. Nothing had worked, no one had been able to help him return to the sea, but he said nothing, a smile working it’s way across his features as he looked at the young lad seated beside him in the white sand. Perhaps Ichigo wouldn’t be able to help him sail again, but the young man was already easing some of that dreadful knowledge in his own ways.

The bigger man turned a bit where he sat and leaned in closer to the smaller. “Thank you, Ichigo.” He rumbled, bringing Ichigo’s hand to his lips to brush them across the backs of Ichigo’s knuckles.

That slight shade of red rose in Ichigo’s features once more as he nodded, but a small smile creased his lips. A thoughtful look crossed the bigger man’s features as he lowered Ichigo’s hand to straighten a bit, still looking at the young man in front of him. Then that wide grin took over his handsome features, transforming his dour expression into something wicked in a perfect and contagious way. Grimmjow finally released Ichigo’s hand and raised his own, tugging gently at some of the longer, vivid orange strands that hung around Ichigo’s features.

Orange; the color that stained the horizon and mixed with the blue of both the sky and the ocean. Orange like the sunset Grimmjow had always chased over open waters, beautiful like accidentally spilled paint. “I think...I would make you my new horizon, if you’d allow it.”

“I-I...” The younger’s eyes widened slightly and Ichigo’s slight confusion showed on his features. He was fairly sure he understood Grimmjow’s odd request, but he could hardly believe it. “What..?”

Grimmjow chuckled, grin toning down to something a bit less crazed and a bit softer. Fingers moving to thread further through the orange hair along the back of Ichigo’s neck, Grimmjow moved forward. 

This time, it wasn’t his fingers Grimmjow kissed and Ichigo’s hands found the front of the bigger man’s shirt as warm lips slanted over his own. It wasn’t a heated and needy kiss, but rather, deep and molten, soul stealing and bone melting.

“What say you, Ichigo?” Grimmjow asked, pulling back just far enough to speak, his lips still brushing against the younger man’s.

Ichigo pulled in a deep breath, attempting to fill his lungs with the air he suddenly so desperately needed. He nodded a bit as a smile worked over his boyish features. “Ok.”

Some of the once-captain’s cold longing seemed to thaw before Ichigo’s very eyes as Grimmjow closed the small space between them again. Ichigo could feel the man’s passion, his passion for the ocean, for sailing, his growing passion for the orange haired lad. He glimpsed Grimmjow’s heated core, pushed back some of the cold surface. Even after the kiss had ended, there was still a heat that wasn’t just the warm sun hanging in the air between them and Ichigo could see why Grimmjow’s crew had followed him so loyally. The bigger man’s passion was contagious. That heat seeped from his very being to fill whoever he was near, in this case, Ichigo. And Ichigo would willingly follow the pirate captain.

Hours had passed while Grimmjow had spun his tale and now the sun shone high overhead, already passed the halfway mark. Grimmjow and Ichigo sat upon the sand in the company of each other, simply enjoying a close proximity for a while. But it wasn’t awkward, not like Ichigo had first found their silence. This silence was different, it was the soft, subtle tune of two men getting to know each other a little more closely. But after a while, Ichigo had to take his leave. 

The younger lad climbed to his feet and smiled at the larger man still seated and watching him. “I have to go...” He told Grimmjow, a small, apologetic smile on his features.

Grimmjow nodded, his smile much less morose than before and perhaps a touch reassuring. Already he looked happier, less lost than he had that morning, than he had since Ichigo had met him. He looked more alive and, if it was possible, perhaps more handsome as well. But maybe it was just the renewed vigor and life that lit blue eyes.

“Grimmjow...” Ichigo paused, a bit unsure, but the man seated before him commanded honesty and strength, even without trying to, so Ichigo continued. “Instead of sitting out here all night, or wandering around, you can stay with me...if you want, of course.”

“I would like that very much.” Grimmjow’s voice was a deep, rumbling purr without effort. The smirk on his features was devilishly charming.

The smile that pulled at Ichigo’s features could have melted the coldest of hearts; that charming smile he hardly even realized he could produce. Reaching down, he grabbed Grimmjow’s hand and tugged the man to his feet. The bigger allowed himself to be pulled up, but as Ichigo turned to head toward town, hand still clasped with Grimmjow’s own, the once-pirate hesitated, not so much pulling back against Ichigo’s lead, but enough so that Ichigo felt it.

The orange haired lad paused, turning to look at the larger man. Brows furrowing slightly, Ichigo frowned as Grimmjow gave him a torn look before looking back over his shoulder and toward the ocean. Frown dissolving, Ichigo chuckled and shook his head. He tugged the bigger man forward again. “Come on, the ocean’s not going anywhere. It wont hurt you to take a few extra hours away.”

Grimmjow grunted a small sound, but a slight smirk tilted one corner of his lips as he allowed himself to be pulled away from the sea, letting his gaze pan back ahead and toward Ichigo. He hardly bothered to look where they were going, it mattered little, and his gaze remained trained on the young man leading him away from what had once been his entire life and has since become his curse. He would never stop loving the ocean, it was as important to him as breathing to a drowning man, but he couldn’t have the ocean. Perhaps he could have this, however; the hand in his own, the young man that dared to get to know him and dared to offer assistance.

By the time they made it to Ichigo’s small house, he was a little surprised he’d been able to pull the bigger man away from the sea so easily, but he was grateful for it too. However, he wasn’t so grateful when he started to twist the door knob to find it unlocked and he realized Rukia must have let herself in again. He didn’t so much mind that she came and went, he trusted her enough, but now was a little inconvenient and he would admit perhaps a bit disappointing as well.

Ichigo pushed the door open and stepped inside. He was greeted by the familiar voice of his longtime friend as she looked up from the chair she’d planted herself in. “Oh, Ichigo, you’re home earlier than I exp-”

Grimmjow followed closely behind Ichigo, giving the room a quick but curious once over before his impossibly blue eyes fell on the small woman in Ichigo’s house.

“-oh, I see.” A wide, knowing smile stretched across Rukia’s features as she lifted a single brow and gave Ichigo a rather suggestive look. She chuckled as her orange haired friend gave her a somewhat sheepish smile and a small shrug.

“I hadn’t realized the two of you lived together.” Grimmjow commented, not really missing their silent exchange, but not really quite putting it all together either. This was a different time, and though he’d lived a long time, he’d distanced himself from most of the world in his lost journey to leave the sea.

“We don’t. She was just leaving, actually.” Ichigo said quickly, stepping away from the door and pushing Rukia toward it. The petite woman started to speak up and Ichigo just knew she was going to have some smart comment about how she could afford to stay a little longer. “Thanks for stopping by, Ru-ru.”

She snapped her jaw shut and she glared at him for the childhood pet name. Ichigo smiled, a teasing look to his brown eyes that told Rukia he’d already won this round and that she’d get no where this time, other than out the door, of course. She huffed but punched him in the arm as her smile returned, her way of commending him for finally doing what he’d wanted to since he’d seen the blue haired man on the beach that first time, when Grimmjow had still been just a stranger.

She let herself out, turning to wink at Ichigo as she slipped out the door. “Bye guys!”

“Bye.” Ichigo’s tone was friendly enough, but he gave her a look that silently told her that if she said a word to anyone about him taking home the strange man from the beach he’d kill her. Despite that Grimmjow wasn’t a stranger to him any longer, he still was to most of the townsfolk, and he wasn’t sure how such an action would be viewed.

Grimmjow bid her a good evening in his rough tone as he quirked a brow and looked between them. Finally, Rukia left, her amused laughter audible through the door.

Outside, the deep rumble of thunder reached them from afar. Ichigo sighed and sank against the couch. “Got to love this time of the year...” Ichigo rolled his eyes, then motioned for the bigger man to make himself comfortable. “You don’t have to stand, by the way, you can sit anywhere you like.”

A handsome smirk tugged at Grimmjow’s features. He nodded and lowered himself at Ichigo’s side, close enough that it wasn’t quite so innocent but still not actually touching the smaller male. “This used to be my favorite time of the year,” The bigger man told Ichigo. “when the wind grows strong and the ocean is just beginning to cool down but most of the days are still long and sunny.”

Ichigo smiled a bit, looking more toward his lap than toward Grimmjow. He enjoyed when Grimmjow spoke of the ocean, the man’s passion showed through in his voice. “When we break this curse, will you take me sailing with you?”

The younger’s confidence that they would indeed succeed brought a warm touch to chilled, crystallin eyes. Even if Grimmjow new it was naive for Ichigo to think they’d ever be able to break it, the sentiment was a welcome change to his normally dark thought pattern. “If we break it and I can return to the sea, I will name you my first mate and let you help me pick out my new ship and crew.”

Ichigo already realized that must have been something rather special. Just the way the bigger man said it made it sound important. A more amused, somewhat sly grin tugged at Ichigo’s features. “Will you name your boat after me?”

“No.”

The young man let out a small chuckle at the swiftness of that answer, a slightly crestfallen look crossing his features. He quickly pushed the expression away, but Grimmjow caught it anyway. With a smirk, Grimmjow quickly explained as he realized the younger didn’t understand.

“I cannot. You see, it’s old mariner code, I guess. To name a ship anything male is to invite bad luck because your ship is supposed to be closer to your heart than your mate.” Blue eyes rolled a bit. “Granted, I do not mind men for that role, but it’s still an unwritten rule, and a captain cannot afford to bring ill luck to his crew and ship. It’s bad luck to name a ship after a lover in any case. One always ends up jealous of the other when that happens,” Grimmjow snorted a small sound. “and I’ve enough bad luck as it is.”

A small flush lit Ichigo’s features at the ease with which Grimmjow already seemed to consider them so close, but he chuckled a bit, finding it oddly endearing how the once-pirate referred to his ship as if it were a living thing. He supposed, in way, it really was. A ship became a sailor’s home. It held his bed, his friends, his memories. It acted as a way of traversing the world, of seeing great things. It brought an unmatched freedom. It became a sort of shelter, and a companion that would never judge nor abandon it’s captain. It earned a name and it earned a reputation. When something went wrong, when the ship was damaged, it needed repairing. It was something that needed care, something that a man like Grimmjow surely poured his heart and soul into.

Ichigo had to wonder if Grimmjow was as passionate about everything he held close as he was about the sea. If so, he could surely make a fine lover and partner. If things ever got that far between them, of course. But then, why shouldn’t they? Grimmjow had already essentially proclaimed them as such in his own odd way of speaking. Ichigo’s features tinted a light shade at the direction his thoughts were taking.

At his side, as if catching where the younger man’s thoughts had led, Grimmjow’s smirk only grew. The brewing storm outside drew closer and thunder rattled the glass panes of the windows and the bigger male leaned in close to Ichigo. “Do you know the best way to weather a storm while at sea, Ichigo?” Grimmjow rumbled, voice as low as the rolling thunder.

A small tremor ran down the younger’s spine and brown eyes cornered to look at Grimmjow, at the spark that lit swirling blue and the charming, yet nearly predatory smirk that showed off white teeth. Ichigo shook his head in a small, negative motion.

“In bed, of course.” Grimmjow smirked, raising a hand to idly play with a few of the longer orange strands at the back of Ichigo’s neck. “I would invite you to mine, but well I cannot, so would you do the honors of showing me to yours?”

That brilliant shade of red crept back up across Ichigo’s face. The boldness of Grimmjow’s request caught him off guard, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. Nothing about the man was hesitant or shy, at least nothing he’d shown so far. Ichigo nodded an affirmative and Grimmjow stood from the couch, extending his hand. Ichigo accepted it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet but didn’t let go of the offered hand as he led Grimmjow toward the back of his house.

The next morning, Ichigo awakened to a still and silent room, nothing but the steady patter of rain on his window to create an almost lulling rhythm. He lay there for a moment, contemplating on letting the soft sound pull him back under the vail of sleep but as a few seconds ticked by he couldn’t but feel the room was much too still and he wondered if his guest had already let himself out. He supposed that shouldn’t have surprised him, not really, and maybe Grimmjow couldn’t even control it. He was cursed and drawn to the sea, after all, he probably didn’t mean anything by leaving when he awakened, but it still didn’t settle well with Ichigo.

Stretching slightly, a disappointed frown creased the young man’s brow as he began shifting about, preparing to get up. The expression melted into a pleasantly surprised one as he rolled over to find that his bed wasn’t quite as empty as he’d first thought. 

At his side, the thin sheets pulled up just barely to his waist, Grimmjow lay on his back, head tilted toward Ichigo and angular features relaxed in sleep. One hand rested on his bare stomach, fingers curled into a loose fist, while the other was thrown up, cushioned behind blue hair. The big man’s muscled chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm that almost seemed to match the cadence of the rain, or perhaps like the gentle undulations in sea water during high tide.

Ichigo’s gaze traveled the man’s figure, swept over high cheek bones and a strong jaw, down the smooth skin along the side of Grimmjow’s neck. He fought the heat that wanted to rise across his own skin when he saw the faint red left behind by his teeth. He continued his slow study; prominent clavicles, sculpted torso and corded arms, all the way down to the edge of the sheet and the dip of cut hips that led to something more.  
 When he finally pulled his wondering gaze back up to Grimmjow’s face, he found those impossibly blue eyes open, watching him in turn. He paused, trying not to redden all over again, but a smile worked it’s way over Grimmjow’s handsome features. Pulling his hand out from behind his head, the bigger man reached up with slow and sure motions, and pulled Ichigo down to his level. 

There was nothing needy or lusty in their kiss, only a slow burn that stole the air from Ichigo’s lungs. By the time they parted, he was nearly melded to Grimmjow’s front, smooth, bare skin against skin. The bigger man’s arms had worked their way around Ichigo’s body, holding him close in a firm but not harsh embrace.

“Good morning.” Grimmjow rumbled, voice sleep roughened and sexy. The smirk slanting his lips was lazy, pleased.

“Good morning.” Ichigo chuckled a bit, content enough to try and remove himself from the bigger man’s hold. “How did you sleep?”

The blue haired man released the smaller anyway, stretching out in fluid, easy motions, a pleased groan crawling up his throat. Ichigo was content with that too, it was certainly fun to witness. “Surprisingly well.” Grimmjow finally answered. “I cannot remember the last time I slept.”

They took their time in dragging themselves from Ichigo’s bed, content to enjoy the closeness and warmth within it. When they finally did pull themselves up and dressed, Grimmjow in his old styled, sailor’s clothing and Ichigo in a pair of denim pants and a long sleeve shirt, the once-pirate convinced Ichigo to go outside and into the drizzle of light, misty rain with him. Ichigo thought it a bit silly at first, but he was already beginning to realize how much the outdoors and the ocean and the water pulled Grimmjow, so he agreed and followed the bigger man out. 

They spent several hours simply wondering the shore through the light precipitation, their pace leisurely and relaxed. The rain wasn’t hard or violent, just the tail end of the storm from the night before. Out at sea, fishing boats rested in the slightly unsettled water, swaying and bobbing in the deep ocean water. Half way through their walk, Grimmjow removed his long, heavy coat and handed it over to Ichigo, seeing the smaller man shiver a bit in the misty air. Ichigo had smiled, features tinting the slightest shade, and accepted the coat.

By the time they decided to return to the younger’s home and get out of the overcast, cool weather, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon and the sky had fallen even darker than it had been through out the day. The rain had slowly but steadily soaked through their clothing, making the white, wide-necked tunic Grimmjow wore nearly see-through. It had dampened their hair, darkening the normally vivid colors and making chaotic blue and unruly orange lay flat for a change.

“It will storm again on the morrow.” Grimmjow commented as Ichigo changed into dry clothes. His blue eyes coasted away from the younger man to look out one of the windows near by. He studied the clouds through the dark, passed the rain. “More so than it did last night. The seas will be a dangerous place to be.”

Ichigo looked over at him with a slight frown. He supposed it made sense that Grimmjow would be able to predict such things, having had plenty of time to grow to understand the way of the world, but there was an oddly dark note to the man’s deep voice. 

“I hope it doesn’t get too bad out,” Ichigo followed the big man’s gaze, but he didn’t see whatever it was Grimmjow had. “I have to go into town in the morning.”

“Would you like me to accompany you?”

The younger man smiled and looked back over to find those piercing blue eyes on him again. “No, it’s just regular stuff I normally do everyday. It wouldn’t be overly entertaining for you and it’ll be early anyway. I’ll let you stay and see about sleeping again.”

“Very well.” Grimmjow stood and moved over to the smaller man, pulling him into a kiss, hands settling along Ichigo’s waist. “I shall await your return then.”

Much like the previous night, Ichigo led the bigger man to his room and they fell into bed together. In a tangle of sheets, long limbs and the warmth of bare skin, they fell into a comfortable sleep.

That morning, as he had said he would, Ichigo slipped from the bed as quietly as possible, climbing over Grimmjow’s sleep stilled from to stand at the bed’s edge. He quickly dressed and headed off into town to fulfill his chores and duties for the day, like he did most mornings. He’d skipped the day before in favor of spending his time with Grimmjow, and so now he had things to catch up on.

Slipping from his home, he met Rukia not far from his front door and they headed off. Unlike what Grimmjow had said the night before, there was no thunder or lightening. The sky was grey and overcast, a light breeze whistling through the town from the ocean, but there was no rain and the sea seemed calm enough. Crews were already bustling about, preparing to go out over the deeper waters in their efforts to meet their daily quotas. Ichigo frowned, thinking it a bit odd, but he banished the thought from his mind. Apparently Grimmjow had been wrong, the man was entitled to making a few mistakes, right?

During the entirety of their walk through town, Ichigo avoided Rukia’s gaze, knowing there was a wide grin on her features and questions on her tongue. She was just waiting for him to giver her the chance to start asking and was positive he wasn’t going to want to answer or admit to half the things she asked about.

“Soooo...” Rukia started, her voice holding a feigned tone of innocence.

“No.” Ichigo quickly cut her off, really not ready to have the conversation Rukia wanted.

“Oh come on, Ichigo!” Rukia spun to walk backwards and look at him. “You can’t just not tell me.”

“Yes I can and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Ichigo scowled at her as they walked, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest.

She feigned an almost pained look. “Was he that disappointing in bed?”

“What? No! He was-” Ichigo clamped his mouth shut, features heating up as Rukia’s smile widened even further, a knowing and triumphant look in her violet eyes.

“So you did take him to your bed last night.” The small woman all but sang, excited for her friend.

Ichigo groaned a quiet sound, scrubbing a hand down his face as he tried to banish the blush working up his ears. “Ok...yes, we had a good night, a very good night...but that’s all you’re getting!”

“I bet he’s big.”

Ichigo lost his battle with his quickly heating features, face going bright red at that comment and only confirming it. Rukia burst into laughter as she turned back around to face the direction they were walking. As they neared the general store that sat near the center of town, they curiously noticed a few hardy looking men discussing something rather heatedly. They were burly looking men, mostly, surely sailors from one of the local fishing crews.

The two made to walk passed them, intending to keep out of their business and leave them alone, but a few words stood out, making Ichigo pause. Orange brows furrowed a bit as he stopped walking and looked back at the group.

“-yeah, but he looks like he’d know a thing or two about sailing.”

“You talkin’ about that blue haired stranger? He stands out on the beach enough, I’d hope he knows about the ocean.”

“Wasn’t out there yesterday.”   
“No, he was with the Kurosaki boy, I think.”

Ichigo looked over at Rukia, eyes questioning. She shrugged and motioned for them to continue, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever was going on. At that moment, one of the sailors looked up to see Ichigo, the young man’s bright orange hair unmistakable. “Hey, Kurosaki! We got a question for you.”

“Oh great...” Ichigo groaned under his breath, just loud enough for Rukia to hear, before walking up to join the group of mariners. “Yeah?”

“Where can we find that buddy of yours? He know anything about boats?” One of the men asked.

“Yeah, I think he does...” He was unsure whether he should actually tell the men Grimmjow knew all about sailing or not. The blue haired man had been trying to leave his life at sea behind, so it sort of made sense he’d prefer not to tell people about his extensive knowledge, not to mention why he had that knowledge and just how he got it. You couldn’t exactly walk around telling people you were a pirate more than a hundred years ago. “Why?”

“We’re short a few people, too many to head out today.” One of the men spoke up in answer. “You think he’d be willing to give us a hand? We’d pay him his share, of course.”

“Oh...uh...” Ichigo looked over his shoulder at Rukia, but she didn’t have anything to say. She didn’t know about Grimmjow’s past, not most of it anyway, only the pieces Ichigo had told her and he hadn’t told her about the curse, or that Grimmjow was a pirate or anything. He couldn’t very well tell these people that the sea worthy stranger couldn’t touch the ocean, that he was banished from ever setting sail again, but coming up with a reasonable excuse as to why Grimmjow would refuse the offer wasn’t an easy task either. “He can’t swim..?”

The group of men, one and all, made an odd, disbelieving face and Ichigo quickly opened his mouth again, trying to divert attention from the blue haired, once-pirate so they’d leave him alone and not ask any more questions about it. “I know a thing or two about working on a boat. If you don’t mind, I’d be interested in making a little extra money...”

“Ichigo-” Rukia started, only to be cut off by a withering glare that yelled ‘shut the hell up’ quicker than any words could.

And so arrangements were made. Ichigo rushed through the few tasks he had to accomplish and set off with the sailors. He considered asking Rukia to let Grimmjow know where he went, but decided against it after realizing the small woman would most assuredly ask a million questions about their nights together without second thought. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told the mariners that he knew a little about sailing, most people in their small fishing community knew there way around a boat, at least the basics anyway. But the blue haired stranger had been present so long, there on the beach everyday, that the sailors had thought to ask him as a way to get to know the man and open a door into the community for the lonely man.

As seemingly kind and well intended as that gesture was, it wasn’t something that Ichigo could just let happen. Grimmjow wasn’t like the people around him, he was from another time entirely and it showed in his mannerisms and the way he spoke. It would not have been taken kindly had he confessed his past to the sailors around him like he had to Ichigo. Mariners were a superstitious lot and had a strange man started talking of curses and sirens and all things of ill luck, the consequences surely would not have been in Grimmjow’s favor.

So Ichigo chose to take up the offer and divert attention away from the once-pirate so that he would be left alone and not forced to answer questions he had no logical and acceptable answers to.

Back at Ichigo’s house, Grimmjow awakened to an empty bed after another surprisingly restful night of sleep. It was odd how sleep was affecting him after so long of not allowing his mind and body that sort of rest. It gave him reprieve from the day after day monotony that had become his life, if it could be called such a thing. It reawakened him, rejuvenated his mind as well as his emotional capabilities. He felt more human than he had in decades, but he also felt raw, starved, hollow. The reawakening of all that made him fit amongst mortal men made old wounds sting again, made him long for the life he’d once had all the more. But it also revitalized his yearning for companionship again. Wandering the earth alone, day and night, no longer seemed possible nor preferable. He remembered what it was like to care for someone again, to care for something other than the sea and a long gone life.

Climbing from the empty bed, he first looked toward the window. The rain had yet to start falling, but he could tell a storm was on the way. The overcast clouds hung low and grey and pregnant in the sky. The sun above, already climbing high into the sky, tried to shine it’s feeble light through the cloud cover, but the earth still took on a shadowed and colorless look. 

Turning away from the window, Grimmjow strode naked through the small house. He was a bit surprised when he found that Ichigo was still away, since the smaller male had told him he wouldn’t be gone long. The sun was already high over head, marking it as near midday. The once-captain turned back down the hall and entered the washroom, where his wet clothing had been left to dry the night before.

He dressed, pulling on his tight pants and knee length boots before shrugging into his white shirt, again not bothering to tie the drawstrings shut, leaving plenty of golden skin exposed. After debating for a few minutes, the big man finally swung his heavy coat around and pulled it on, leaving the smaller man’s home and stepping out into the chill, heavy air. If Ichigo returned before he did, the younger lad would know where to find him.

That thought in mind, Grimmjow took his leave and headed out toward the beach he’d been frequenting. He didn’t understand why this particular stretch of shore had been so compelling to him for so long, but he’d long ago given up on trying to rationalize such things. Sometimes that’s just how things worked for him, he mostly assumed it was do to the siren’s curse and there was nothing he could do about that.

When he made it to the beach, his boots sinking in white sand, he looked out over the water like he had so many times before, and shook his head slightly, perhaps a bit of remorse swimming in blue eyes. Out at sea, a few fishing boats rose and fell with the choppy waves. The ocean had swelled with the rain, bringing the water line higher than it had been in previous days and the normally calm waves were a bit more eager as they rolled onto shore. There would be a storm. He knew these things, after decades of wandering and witnessing, he understood when the sea was not happy. Today, there would be trouble. A storm would role in from across the vast ocean and the sea would claim her share of lives.

But that’s how things worked and Grimmjow stood out of reach of the waves and merely watched as the few small ships bobbed with the subtle waves and motions of the seas. He’d seen many ships sink beneath the waves in his banishment, unable to prevent it, and so had grown callous toward it, unaffected.

Less than an hour later, the rain began to fall. It came as if from no where, the skies simply letting loose without warning. There was no slow drizzle to mark it, now steady increase in wind or far off thunder, simply the quick onset of a heavy downpour. The already overcast skies darkened further, massive, black storm clouds gathering and accumulating. A few minutes into the driving rain, the first of the lightening streaked across the sky, followed by the booming clap of thunder. The already choppy sea grew more wild and the few boats out a sea began attempting to make their way to the docks, battling through the waves before they got worse.

Back in town, the citizens ran for the cover of their homes as the storm soaked the streets and turned the dirt of the gutters into a muddy mess. Rukia headed straight for Ichigo’s home, a sinking feeling settling in her gut as she ran against the wind whipping through the streets and around buildings. The sudden change in the weather didn’t bode well and she knew Ichigo was probably sill out a sea, sailing with a crew he’d never worked with on a boat he’d never been on. When she reached her friend’s home, she let herself in, water already dripping from her dark hair and soaking her clothing. There was no response as she called out for either Ichigo or Grimmjow and her quick search revealed the home to be empty.

On the beach, Grimmjow continued his silent survey; a nearly ageless sentry meant to witness. His sharp eyes and experienced mind easily picked out as one of the fishing ships began having issues. It didn’t pull up it’s nets and lines and head toward shore like the other few did. With the wind and driving rain, he couldn’t hear the shouts of crewmen and captain, but could easily enough imagine it as the ship listed to one side in the rough sea.

Blue brows furrowed slightly, crystallin eyes narrowing as he attempted to better see what was going on through the distance and the rain that obscured his vision. He pulled his waterlogged coat tighter around his already rain drenched form, but it was a motion formed out of old habit rather than a feeble attempt to protect himself from the weather. His blue hair hung limp about his angular features, weighted from it’s usual chaotic style by the rain. Water dripped from the ends, running in small rivulets down his face, his neck, under the heavy collar of his long coat. The wind was cold against what bare, wet skin was exposed, but he hardly noticed any of it. His focus was on the ship still out at sea. There was something wrong with it, he could see that much. The way it cantered was unnatural, even with the strong wind and waves. It wasn’t floating and following the elements like a healthy ship should have. Grimmjow knew exactly what he was looking at; they were taking on water for one reason or another.

Running footsteps through soft, wet sand met his ears. Beside him, a few meters away, the small woman Ichigo was friends with skidded to a halt. Her large eyes followed his too blue gaze and found the ship he watched. Rukia studied it for a moment, trying hard to pierce the gloom and rain of the storm. Then her violet eyes widened with recognition, her breath catching in her lungs as lightening flashed across the sky out over the sea and lit up area around the ship like day.

She turned to look at Grimmjow, moved closer to him. She even said his name but his focus was tuned in to the distressed ship and he didn’t hear her. He hardly seemed to even realize she was there. She tried again, practically screaming his name over the sound of the storm. She received the barest of acknowledgements in the form of cyan eyes flickering toward her for the briefest of moments, before they returned to the ocean. Desperate, Rukia changed her line of thinking. She needed his attention, no one else could help her in time, not in weather like this.

“I know who you are, Captain!” Rukia shouted where she stood panting in the rain, her dark hair hanging in short, wet ribbons and clinging to her features. Her dark eyes were wide, alternating between where Grimmjow stood on the beach and the sinking boat he watched. “I thought your name sounded familiar, I dug up old records...I know who you are.” 

As she continued, however, blue eyes finally slid away from the ship out at sea to settle on the small woman, growing wider in understanding. His features were set, brow furrowed, but he remained standing in the wet sand, just out of reach of the sea spray from the waves that rolled onto the beach. Rain soaked his heavy coat, plastered blue hair to his face and neck, but the rain didn’t bother him. He missed the way it felt, even if it wasn’t the same as the sea spray or ocean water.

“I know what happened to the Del Mar...to your crew...I never said anything because I think Ichigo already knows too.” Rukia continued, feeling the piercing weight of his too blue gaze. “In the books, they tried to explain what you did as insanity, but it wasn’t, was it? The curse is real. I don’t think you’ve realized it yet, why you keep coming back to this section of beach on this coast?” She pointed out toward the water, very nearly where the boat was taking on water. “This is where it happened. You can’t leave here because this is where the Del Mar rests.”

Grimmjow reacted as though he’d been physically harmed. His chest heaved as he drew in a ragged breath, features dropping into a horrified and stunned expression. His wide blue eyes darted back over the water, over the horizon, the shore, the small island just off into the deep. Just as recognition set in, as the once-pirate captain began to remember the area everything had happened at, Rukia continued.

“I know you can’t touch the water, but you have to!” Rukia was practically screaming at him, looking from him, to the boat on the water, and back. Her every action and her tone were urgent, desperate. “You have to because you’re the only one that can save that ship and the people on it...”

Grimmjow shook his head in a small motion, his voice low but easily heard even through the driving rain and wind. “I cannot...”

“You have to!” Rukia screamed, pointing out at the boat again. “Or Ichigo will die! He’s on that boat, they were shorthanded and they were going to ask you...but he knew you wouldn’t do it so he told them he would take the job so that they would leave you alone about it. Ichigo is on that boat...”

The blue haired man froze, eyes locked on the sinking boat. It was taking on water, the captain probably an inexperienced man, unused to sailing in bad weather. Rukia was right, Grimmjow could still save the boat and her crew. He knew how to captain a ship better than anyone.

Features pulling into a fearsome snarl that bared white teeth, Grimmjow shrugged from his heavy coat, letting it drop to the sand as he took off across the beach. He leapt up, right foot first, onto the wooden dock that ran out over the ocean until it reached water deep enough for a ship to settle in. The wood was slippery beneath his feet, but his steps were confident and steady, his pace an unhesitant sprint as he neared the edge, even knowing that he would call the siren back the moment he touched the water.

Rukia hurried to the dock after him, her eyes wide as he dove off the edge, hands above his head, body streamline. He made hardly a splash as he entered the choppy water through the waves. She waited to see him resurface, desperately hoping she hadn’t just sent the man to the death she was sure would await him, but as seconds ticked by, she looked back to the desperate boat. She never saw Captain Jaegerjaquez resurface.

As she turned, sprinting out across the beach and back toward the town where she could find someone to help her, she missed as the blue haired once-pirate resurfaced and began expertly scaling the sinking ship’s leaning haul.

Soaking wet from the freezing water, Grimmjow growled as he began pulling himself over the boat’s railing and onto the deck. His boots slid on the cantering ship, forcing him against the railing and nearly back over, but he was experienced in all things that had to do with sailing and pushed away, headed toward the helm and the man desperately trying to keep the ship under control.

The ship was much smaller than the one he’d captained, about half the Del Mar’s size, but it was large enough to carry large hauls of fish and the supplies and crew needed for such a task. Men ran back and forth, panic was setting in. He didn’t see Ichigo anywhere as he scoured the deck.

Clearly they were taking on water for some reason. The haul must have been breeched, which meant the ship must have hit something under the water’s surface. Now that he was on it and could better assess the situation, Grimmjow doubted he’d be able to save the boat, not in a storm like this, but he’d be able to save the people. At least most of them...

He began shouting instructions, his deep, growling voice cutting through the wind and the driving rain. He pushed the captain at the helm away, toward the side of the boat that sat higher in the water. The small island he now recognized sat not far from them and the wind was strong. His goal became running the ship aground, it was already taking on water, so he wasn’t worried about damaging it further. 

Everything about the situation left him feeling sick. It was far too familiar; the area, the predicament, soon the fog would roll in and the siren would come. He already knew how this story played out and experience told him he would watch this ship burn while he listened to it’s crew as they died, Ichigo among them somewhere.

He instructed the captain to get every man that knew how to swim to help him with the rigging and navigation. Those that couldn’t were to go below and see about closing off where ever they were taking on water from. It would keep them off the slippery deck and hopefully from falling into the cold sea. The captain frowned but nodded and began shouting orders to his crew. He had no idea who the blue haired stranger was, nor how he’d gotten out onto his craft, but he seemed to know what he was doing and any good captain would do anything it took to save his crew and ship.

As Grimmjow fought with the helm, grunting and snarling as he worked to force the boat into a turn against the waves, a white fog began to drift in from their port-side. He didn’t bother looking, he already knew what he would see, and his boots slid across the wet deck as he continued struggling. Those rushing around him froze, murmuring in growing fear as they stared out at the vast ocean that had suddenly become obscure. Grimmjow barked a demanding order for them to keep focused and get their asses moving.

With the pirate captain throwing his weight as well as his strength into it, the ship began a slow rotation toward the island. Grimmjow locked the helm so that it would stay turned as he spun away from it and toward their left and the mist that was quickly washing over the boat’s deck. Mostly hidden within it’s own fog, the top of two masts and ghostly sails could be seen not too far off.

Grimmjow snarled, allowing himself to slid in that direction as the boat continued to slant toward port. Around him, men scrambled about. Crates and barrels were pulling loose of their ties, sliding across the cantering deck to smash against the railings and tumble overboard. The wood of the ship groaned in protest of the unnatural movements and the sharp turn it was forced into. Above, lighting flashed across the cloud darkened sky, thunder, loud and booming, following the flashes. Grimmjow sneered, lip curling into a grimace as a few of the crewmen followed the supplies, sliding across the wet deck.

And then, in the chaos that came with a sinking ship, something orange caught his attention from his peripheral. Ichigo stood not far from one of the masts, thick rope from the rigging wrapped around his hand to help him keep his balance as he helped another crewmen.

What the orange haired lad didn’t notice, Grimmjow did. “Ichigo!” But his warning was lost in the sound of the storm and the crash of the rough sea.

The netting holding down a stack of barrels snapped, letting the supplies tumble loose right across from where Ichigo and the other member were. Ichigo looked up just in time to throw his arms up as they crashed into him and the other man. Both were thrown hard to the railing, the cold waves spraying against them. A crate shattered as it crashed into the railing beside the orange haired man. It took part of the railing with it.

Grimmjow watched as Ichigo slid across the deck, through the broken railing, and landed at an awkward angle amongst floating chucks of wood and chopping surf. He shouted the lad’s name again, but Ichigo didn’t respond and the next wave that crashed in pushed Ichigo under and out of sight.

Blue eyes went wide and frantically searched the sea, waiting for Ichigo to resurface, but he didn’t. Grimmjow took one last look at the schooner before snarling and leaping. His right foot planted on the railing of the sinking ship and he pushed off, diving back into the frigid water as near to where Ichigo had gone under as he could.

Below the ocean’s surface was even darker than above, the water foamy and roiling around topside. More wood rained down upon the surface above him, splashing in the water before slowing to create an ethereal sort of atmosphere around him. It was nearly silent under the water’s surface, the rushing water and the groaning protest of the ship muted and almost lazy.

Grimmjow swam deeper still, eyes searching the dark gloom for the young man he’d quickly grown to care about. In the back of his mind, he wondered if it would be a mercy to let Ichigo simply sink. The boy hadn’t resurfaced, he had probably been knocked unconscious and would drown without being awake to feel it...it seemed a better fate than burning with a sinking ship. Both for Ichigo and for Grimmjow’s sake. But the once-captain couldn’t do that, he cared too much for Ichigo and he had to try.

As he searched the darkness, extremities working on going numb from the cold, his vision caught shadows from further out to sea, in deeper water and the opposite direction the sinking ship was headed. Even under water, vivid blue eyes widened as something sank in Grimmjow’s chest, painful and sharp even after all these years. There, amongst the depthless, fathomless darkness, three masts stretched up toward the surface. The charred, waterlogged and rotting wood was algae and seaweed covered, the sails long rotted away, but Captain Jaegerjaquez would never forget what she looked like. Stretching out deep below him, the Del Mar rested, her flame ravaged body half rotted and littering the ocean floor where he’d watched her fall.

The once-pirate only pulled himself back to the present as his lungs began to burn. Frantically, he spun about, searching for Ichigo and unwilling to resurface until he found the young man. Finally, as time seemed to crawl by and what had really only been a couple minutes at most seemed more like a couple hours, Grimmjow spotted another figure in the gloom around him.

Ichigo hung motionless in the cold water, slowly sinking deeper toward the Del Mar and ocean floor below. Already needing air, Grimmjow swam off as quickly as he could. He grabbed hold of the unconscious young man and kicked his feet, pulling Ichigo up and toward the surface. He didn’t have time to check the lad for a pulse, and he preyed to the sea herself that Ichigo was still alive. She favored him, right? Surely she could still grant him this one request after so long of his absence from the ocean.

When he finally breached the ocean’s surface, Grimmjow’s first lungful was more water than air and he coughed as he simply worked on keeping himself and Ichigo afloat for a moment while he caught his breath. Turning so that his back was toward the shore, he held Ichigo close, one arm wrapped tightly around the younger’s chest as he used his legs and other arm to pull them toward the shallows. As he did, he watched the ghost ship draw closer, as calm and silent as the fog it brought with it. It was close enough now that he could see the lone figure standing on the deck.

Gold eyes locked on his form unerringly and fire lit in the blue haired man’s gut, an anger he hadn’t felt in too many years. He could see, even with the distance between himself and the schooner and the fog that floated between them, the grin that stretched like slow decay across ghostly features. He pulled Ichigo toward shore until his feet touched the sand of the ocean’s floor as they neared the island, than he spun about and shouted toward a man that was already pulling himself out of the water.

At his call, the man waded through chest deep water to Grimmjow’s side. “Take him, get him to shore and make sure he’s breathing or I give my word I will kill you myself.” The once-captain growled as he passed Ichigo’s still limp form to the man. He only waited long enough to see his threat sink in and the man’s eyes to widen a bit, then the blue haired man headed back out to sea.

Without carrying the weight of another adult, Grimmjow made his way to the sinking fishing boat faster than he’d made it to shore. He snagged hold of a loose rope that hung nearly to the water’s surface from a slanted mast, and began pulling himself back onto the ship. Once on the deck, he rose his voice above the sounds of the storm and waves. He warned all those still on the ship to leave, get to shore as quickly as they could. The ship was very nearly as close as it would go, the deep set haul already beginning to drag against the sandy bottom in places. He could feel it catch. It would be unable to sink much further, nor would it get much closer to shore.

His natural, commanding air and tone made those around him listen.

Still holding onto the length of rope, Grimmjow spun back toward the ghost ship as it neared. Much shallower and lighter than the boat he stood on, the schooner had no trouble rolling in beside the fishing boat, even as the fishing craft began striking the bottom. Grimmjow rested his free hand on the pommel of his sword and took off in a dead sprint toward the sinking aft of the ship. He snarled and bared white teeth as he found the end of the rope and kicked off the slippery deck, letting the rope carry him over the railing of the ship he was on, around, and over the deck of the white schooner on the return journey. Dropping the rope, his waterlogged, leather boots thudded to the white wood of the deck and he landed in a crouch before the pale siren.

Straightening, he pulled his sword from his scabbard, a growl working it’s way up his throat, just in time to meet the creature’s swinging blade. Lilting, manic laughter floated through the air with the harsh ring of steal.

On the shore, Ichigo coughed and gagged as he struggled through darkness. It took him a moment to register he was pulling air into his desperate lungs, not cold water. At his side, warm hands settled along his freezing body. Encouraging, nearly pleading words met his ears. He finally pried his eyes open to stare up at the deep grey of storm clouds, the green of leaves further off to the side of his vision. He looked over to find Rukia kneeling at his side, her eyes wide and her hair plastered around her face from the still falling rain.

Around him, the rest of the fishing crew lay sprawled out on the sand of the small island that sat in deeper water, off the coast of the mainland. The island held only a small dock and an old graveyard, but it also held memories. Tied off at the dock, a larger fishing ship rose and fell with the waves. The crew of that boat was already dispersed amongst the survivors that had been brought to shore.

After watching for a few moments, waiting to see if Grimmjow would make it, Rukia had run off as fast as she could through the sand and into town. A rescue crew was quickly rounded up and a ship set sail toward the sinking boat. They hadn’t thought they’d make it as they watched the ship sit lower and lower in the water. Then the fog had rolled in and their view had been cut off.

Mind waking up as he remembered what was going on, Ichigo bolted upright, nearly knocking Rukia over. He had thought he’d seen something blue, much too pale blue to be the cold dark water as he’d been sinking. But that was impossible, Grimmjow hadn’t known he was on that ship, and the once-pirate couldn’t touch the water...

But even as he thought it, he caught sight of something ghostly and white through the sheets of angry rain and undulating, unnatural fog, out in the water, just passed the sinking ship. “No...” He leapt to his feet, Rukia at his side as he scrambled back out toward the water. 

“Ichigo! You can’t go out there!” Rukia could see the desperation in her best friend’s eyes, but she couldn’t let Ichigo get himself killed. Grimmjow had sacrificed himself for the younger and that would all be in vain if Ichigo tried to go after the man. 

“Even if you could swim through this storm and make it all the way out there, what would do when you got there?” She questioned, pulling at Ichigo’s soaked cloths as she tried to hold him back. “You can’t fight that thing! He knew what he was doing, Ichigo...he couldn’t let you die... Don’t throw his sacrifice away!”

Ichigo froze at her words, knee deep in the cold, strong surf, wide eyes trained on the ghostly schooner that had come for the man he loved. As he watched, crazed laughter drifted to them, lilting and high pitched and absolutely insane. It was followed by a deep, rumbling tone that could have only been the pirate captain.

A man ran up to Ichigo and Rukia, splashing through the water. He glanced over at the ghost ship and shook his head slightly, a bit of fear in his gaze, before he redirected his attention to the two younger people. “Come on!” He called over the crash of waves and the howling of the wind and rain. “We need to get out of here before this storm gets worse!”

“We can’t just leave him!” Ichigo tried to tug out of Rukia’s grip again. 

The man from the rescue crew grabbed hold as well, pulling him back toward the beach. “There’s no way we’re going anywhere near that ship, kid...I’m sorry...”

“But he...he saved us...” Ichigo’s gaze never left the ghost ship and the two battling figures on it as he was pulled toward the ship docked near by.

Back on the ship too white to have ever been a real boat, Grimmjow snarled an aggressive sound as a blade just as white sliced through his water-logged shirt, tearing a gash through his golden flesh. His blood mixed with the water dripping from him to coat his front in a gory red and stain his once white shirt. He blocked the next swing, the loud ring of steel on steel echoing back to them through the fog conjured by the siren and it’s ship. He watched inverted, madness-filled golden eyes drift away from him, coasting out to sea and toward the small island he’d dragged Ichigo to.

Grimmjow bared white teeth and yanked his sword free of the siren’s blade. He voiced his hatred and determination as he swung, aiming to behead the creature. If the siren was allowed to win, like it had every other time Grimmjow had confronted it, Ichigo would die and Grimmjow would be forced to watch. He already knew how this worked, he’d known the moment he’d touched cold water and felt the surge of thick, heavy power that had rippled through the ocean. But he couldn’t just let Ichigo die, not while he stood on shore and did nothing. He was once more put in a terrible position and his desperation surely showed in his fighting as he faced off with the Devil’s siren once again.

He would win, he had to. His determination blazed in frigid blue eyes, eyes that matched the color where the sea and the sky met. He was always meant for the sea and if he had to, he would die out at sea. He would make the siren kill him before he gave in, before he let the thing win this time. He was done with this all. Ichigo had promised to help him break his curse, well maybe this was the only way.

With a snarling, wordless yell, he gave voice to all his built up hatred and his pent up anger as he swung his sword. The colorless creature he fought simply laughed and deftly blocked the strike. It began humming a familiar tune as the wind whistled through the sails and rigging above and the sea rocked below. The siren lunged forward, timed with the motion of it’s schooner. Blood splashed across the white wood of the deck as the ship rocked with the waves. Grimmjow staggered to one side until the low railing halted his progress and barely kept him from dropping into the cold waters below.

Panting, white teeth bared and fire in his eyes, he pulled his hand away from his chest to see blood slicking his palm and dripping from his fingers. He spun, back against the rail, and jumped into the fight again as red stained his once white tunic.

The last image of the pirate Ichigo was granted with was of Grimmjow dropping to his knees, the colorless siren standing above him with a wide and wicked grin on it’s ghostly features. Golden eyes burned through the fog, like living flames, as they rose away from Grimmjow’s kneeling form to settle on Ichigo’s as the lad stood at the aft of the rescue ship, hands in a white knuckled grip around the railing and brown eyes wide. Ichigo watched, unable to breath and hardly registering the freezing bite of hypothermia from the cold water and wind, until the thick fog swallowed the cursed white schooner and the figures aboard it.

Everyday from then on, Ichigo would go out to the beach and stand on that stretch of shore Grimmjow had once occupied. He would say nothing and simply watch the sea, the boats that rose and fell with the tide, searching the horizon as Grimmjow had once done. Through rain and shine, from dawn until dusk, he would stand on the beach. But he never found signs of white fog or whiter sails. He never saw the blue haired man return. He waited to see Grimmjow walk out onto the beach and join him. He waited for the man to be standing at his side, joining him in his endless watch of the sea, but it never happened.

People that were aboard the sinking vessel all those weeks ago told him there was little hope Grimmjow had survived. They were mariners that knew the sea and knew what it could do, they understood what had likely happened. At Ichigo’s insistence however, when the storm had ended, they’d gone back to the island but they’d found nothing; no body, no living man, no signs that Grimmjow had ever even existed, nor even signs of the mysterious schooner. They found nothing, just like Ichigo’s relentless search day after day.

After a few days, a crew had gone out to see about salvaging the grounded craft where it sat in the sandy shallows of the small, offshore island. When they’d come back, after hours of evaluating and making plans, they’d all agreed if it hadn’t been for the blue haired stranger, they would have surely lost their ship to the depths and many more lives with it. Ichigo finally confessed who the stranger was. He gave them a name: Captain Jaegerjaquez of the Del Mar. After pulling out records and books and finding old drawings and pictures of the once infamous man and his ship, there was no denying the proof. The pirate captain from so long ago ceased to be a cursed man with a name to invite bad luck and became known as something more of a guardian to ships in distress, at least in their little town.

The seas were unnaturally calm for the time of year. No more violent storms suddenly brewed. The ocean remained in a lulling, ever present ease, like she was happy for the first time in a long time, like something had been returned to her after so long of it’s absence. Some part of that gave Ichigo comfort. Grimmjow had loved the sea, and maybe now he was finally allowed to return to her, but it broke his heart and left him feeling empty, yet too heavy all the same.

At the end of the day, when the last rays of fiery orange sunlight sank below the midnight, depthless blue of the ocean, Ichigo would return to his house in silence. Part of him hoped, everyday with everything he had, that he would awaken to find the big man laying at his side asleep. In the morning, when that failed to happen, he would dress and go back to the beach, again hoping to see the blue haired once-captain standing on the shore like when they’d first met. And so the cycle seemed endless. 

Rukia watched, day after day, unable to help. She tried to get Ichigo to return to his duties, she tried to get him to come stay with her for a while, or even just stand out there and talk about it to her. She tried comforting him with it became obvious Grimmjow wouldn’t return. She tried everything she could think of, but Ichigo remained nearly silent, brown eyes ever turned toward the horizon.

Weeks had gone by. Then longer still. The season grew colder as the onset of winter rolled in from across the mainland. The fishing season over, the boats were taken to their owners’ docks for the winter and the ocean vista sat empty, stretching out endlessly from the shore. The sea wouldn’t freeze, it wasn’t cold enough for that and the salt made it even more unlikely, but the breeze that floated across the water was bitter and strong.

Rukia pulled a coat around her petite body as she stood a few feet behind Ichigo, facing him and the shore. He stared out across the ocean like he had been since the storm, like he had become the replacement for the sea’s lost sentry. “Ichigo...please come in.”

It was bitter and cold out, the air smelling of winter. It didn’t snow, not yet, but neither would have been surprised if it didn’t start to in the coming days. Still, Ichigo remained silent and stared out at the horizon. Unlike Grimmjow had all those months ago, he searched, unable to give up hope. Grimmjow had loved the sea, and Ichigo loved what the sea had seemingly taken, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate the endless blue depths. The sea had simply reclaimed what had been taken from her.

“Ichigo, it’s freezing out here...” Rukia knew her friend wouldn’t listen, she’d tried this before. Ichigo wouldn’t come in until the ocean was merely the black smudge of mixed paint in the dark.

But this time was different, and she watched as lean shoulders sagged, Ichigo’s vision falling more toward his feet than out to sea. After a moment, both remaining silent, he turned away from the ocean and looked to Rukia. The look in his deep eyes far from as cold as the weather, his hurt still raw. He didn’t move yet, didn’t walk away from the shore, but he was working up the nerve to leave early and Rukia nearly felt guilty about trying to convince him to.

Around them, the beach was silent and deserted. There was no snow, but the white sand gave the same affect in the cold air. The ocean looked dark, the blue not quite so shining and clear and the sun overhead was a brighter smear through grey clouds, attempting to break through and warm the earth here and there. No people occupied the beach, other than them. No birds cried. Everything was quiet, but not quite dead.

As Ichigo studied Rukia, mind only half directed at her, he watched her gaze flicker off to the side and her eyes slowly widen. Shock showed openly on her features and Ichigo frowned, his near permanent scowl deepening more than it already had been in those past weeks. Just before he turned back toward the ocean to see what the small woman was looking at, a deep and rumbling voice spoke from further out to sea, the tone unmistakable and clear, even in the frigid air. Ichigo froze, his heart jumping into his throat.

“Good afternoon, Ichigo...”

The young man spun around, nearly tripping in the sand as he stumbled forward. He stared up with wide, disbelieving eyes, at the man he thought lost. Staring back at him, a huge vessel drifted into port at the dock, her sails dropped so that they no longer caught the steady wind. Three, powerful and sturdy masts rose up toward the sky, proud and defiant, the wood no longer charred or crusted with the evidence of her time at the bottom of the sea. Painted along the haul, light, scripty words against darkly stained wood, Del Mar marked the ship’s identity, and there, standing on the railing with a hand wrapped around a rope from the rigging to help him keep his balance, was Grimmjow. His old, worn leather boots looked nearly brand new, his tight-fitting breeches unfaded. His long coat billowed out around him, whipping about in the wind and from the forward motion of the ship, the white tunic underneath left open like usual. His chaotic blue hair was tousled by the wind and a wide, blissful grin adorned his handsome, angular features.

He dipped into a slight but elegant bow from his precarious perch, though his footing was sure and his balance was perfect. When he looked back up his vivd blue eyes shone with a life and fire Ichigo had only glimpsed before. The curse was broken, and Grimmjow was allowed back out to sea where he was truly happiest at, but one thing was still missing upon his beloved ship.

“I believe I gave my word to make you my first mate.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?   
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